Take Notice
by Brianna Faye
Summary: "I think your hair is awfully pretty now…honest, I do. Let's be friends." For a moment, Anne's face softened and underneath Gilbert's gaze a blush formed beneath Anne's freckles. But just as quickly as her kind expression appeared, it vanished again. Pivotal moments from Anne and Gilbert's relationship told through Gilbert's eyes.
1. Carrots and Candy Hearts

**A/N: **This story was written for the group reread of the _Anne_ series I'm moderating on tumblr. I enjoyed writing it immensely! If you would enjoy reading the series with myself and others you are welcome to join us on tumblr:  
** avonleavignettes . tumblr . (com) /tagged/reread**

Anywho, drop me a review and tell me what you think! I'm not sure about the characterization of young!Gilbert and his friends, so let me know how you feel about it.

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**Take Notice**

Gilbert Blythe, not yet fourteen, sauntered down the Sugar Maple-lined pathway that led from the Blythe homestead to the main Avonlea road, where he planned to intercept an unsuspecting Charlie Sloane and Moody Spurgeon MacPherson. The pair hadn't a clue that he'd returned from his voyage in New Brunswick, and he was apt to surprise them with his arrival.

From behind one of the sturdy Sugar Maples that were commonly found on the Island, Gilbert spotted his two friends walking merrily along. Charlie, as bottle-eyed as ever, was chatting animatedly with Moody, using his hands to describe something he was clearly excited about. Neither he nor Moody had spotted their brown-haired comrade by the edge of the road.

At last, his friends had become close enough that Gilbert could begin to hear their conversation. "…I'd told Tommy that mother wanted him to feed the cows, you see," Charlie told Moody, obviously detailing a prank he pulled on his younger brother. Gilbert shook his head good-naturedly—he'd missed his friends—before jumping up behind them.

"Miss me?" he asked cheekily, grinning from in between the two boys. Both Charlie and Moody jumped back in surprise, the former placing a steadying hand on Gilbert's shoulder to keep from falling.

"Sweet Jehoshaphat," swore Moody, as he stepped back to fully observe his prodigal friend. "Is that really you, Gil?"

The grin that had formed upon Gilbert's face since surprising his friends had yet to disappear. He glanced from Moody to Charlie, and shook his curly head. "My, it's good to see you two. New Brunswick is all very well—and my cousins are very welcoming—but nothing beats good old P.E.I., does it?" Both boys grinned back and shook their heads. "So, what have I missed?"

Charlie tore his gaze from Gilbert and turned to Moody, a faint blush rising beneath his goggle-eyes. Moody merely shook his and glanced at Gilbert. "Anne Shirley," he explained, causing Charlie's cheeks to turn even rosier.

"Anne Shirley?" Gilbert repeated, allowing the name to fall from his lips. He ruminated for a moment, and then—of course! "I heard mother speaking to Mrs. Lynde about her. She gave Mrs. Lynde what-for, apparently."

Moody chuckled. "That's old news now, Gil. Charlie's _dead gone_ on the poor girl. He's been plotting a stealthy way to write her name up with his on the 'Take Notice' wall for weeks."

Gilbert laughed, marveling over the fact that Charlie had found another girl to fancy after Minnie Andrews' sore rejection a few years prior. To the Sloane boy's credit, she had only been eight and wasn't yet ready for a vigorous romantic suitor.

"Anyhow," continued Moody, once the chuckles had died down, "what happened with Tommy?"

The round-faced boy's question was directed at Charlie, whose large eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected inquiry. "Oh!" he exclaimed suddenly, remembering the story that had long been forgotten with the arrival of their friend. "Right! Well, Tommy went out to check on the cows, but he hadn't yet spotted the fishing line I'd tied between the two trees…"

Laughter erupted once more between the three young boys as Charlie finished his tale, and they then went on to discuss the inconsequential fancies of thirteen-year-old boys. Time was forgotten between the friends, as they were all overjoyed to be in each other's company once again. In what seemed to be no time at all, the group of comrades arrived in front of the Avonlea schoolhouse to join the throngs of young scholars.

From the corner of his hazel eyes, Gilbert noticed Julia Bell and her two friends glance and giggle at him. Deciding to indulge the young girls for a moment, he winked.

"Careful, Gil," warned Charlie, "your name is already up on the porch wall with Julia's."

Gilbert decided that although Julia's eyes were a wee bit _too_ close to her nose, he didn't quite mind and simply shrugged off his friend's warning.

"That's Anne Shirley over there." Charlie extended his slender arm to point at a skinny redhead and a plump raven-haired girl whom Gilbert knew to be Diana Barry. "Her and Diana Barry are practically inseparable."

Gilbert took note of the eleven-year-old's red braids, drab dress, and shapely nose—he also noticed a dusting of freckles across the aforesaid shapely nose and cheeks—but this Anne Shirley had yet to look at him which quickly caused Gilbert to lose interest.

The schoolmaster rang the bell shortly thereafter, and the pupils lined up in front until roll was called. Upon entering the schoolhouse, Gilbert confidently strode up to Mr. Phillip's desk to be assigned a seat. His eyes gleamed when he noticed that he'd be sitting behind Ruby Gillis and her shiny blonde braid. As he took his seat, he passed Anne Shirley and Diana Barry, who were currently engrossed in a thrilling conversation and did not both to look up Gilbert as he passed. For some reason—some strange, inexplicable reason that Gilbert could not quite put his finger on—this bothered him. However, his spirits brightened considerably after he took his seat and heard Diana whisper his name to her redheaded companion. Now that he knew he had someone's attention—quite an understatement considering that Gilbert Blythe usually always had someone's attention—he decided to pull out the long, silver pin that had been sitting in his pocket all day, pricking away at his thigh.

Ruby's long, yellow braid was currently draped across the back of her seat, just waiting for Gilbert's pin. He smiled slightly as he poked the thin metal pin through her hair and into the hard wood of the seat, pushing it hard enough to stay fastened to the chair when Ruby next decided to stand up.

Presently, Ruby finished the sum she had spent minutes trying to figure out—although nearly half those minutes were spent dreaming of the male population of the Avonlea schoolhouse—and stood up to present her sums to Mr. Phillips. However, the pin—firmly planted to the back of her chair—pulled her shiny braid back, yanking poor Ruby back into her seat, causing her slate to clatter against her desk. Gilbert, to his merit, had already yanked the pin from her seat and began studying the history lesson laid out before him. He didn't notice the disapproving stare Mr. Phillips gave Ruby as she began to cry, but he _did_ notice that a certain redhead was staring at him from across the aisle.

The commotion of his prank died down, and Gilbert allowed himself to glance up and meet Anne Shirley's stare. Her gray eyes were large and expressive—they clearly told Gilbert that she had seen the prank he pulled on Ruby and that he should be ashamed—and an image of those very eyes flashing with anger as she yelled at Mrs. Lynde filled his mind. Those starry, animated eyes told Gilbert that the young girl held a very large temper, although he had yet to discover just how large her temper really was.

But, Gilbert quickly realized, he was staring! To correct this, his lips curled into a droll smile—he noticed Anne's gray eyes narrow slightly at this action—and he winked. The brown-haired thirteen year old did not wait to see Anne's reaction, instead choosing to turn his attention to his history, a smile still playing on his lips. Beside him, he heard Anne turn and whisper something—presumably about him—to Diana.

The rest of the morning passed without incident, as Gilbert had preoccupied himself with his studies. Even though he was a mischievous lad—as most thirteen year olds are—and enjoyed playing the occasional prank, he very much cared about his studies and had high ambitions for his future. His father's illness was a major setback in his education, but he loved the elderly Blythe man dearly and didn't mind spending those three years in Alberta caring for him.

Now, however, the younger Blythe boy realized just how far behind he was. He glanced around the classroom at Moody and Charlie, who were diligently studying—or pretending to—their Sixth Readers. Dismally, Gilbert directed his hazel gaze downward to the fourth reader that was perched on his desk. Before his father's illness, Gilbert had been at the top of the class, outdoing every pupil in the schoolhouse. Now, he realized that he'd have to fight to catch up with his friends, something he'd never had to do before.

When the other children were released for their snack breaks, Gilbert opted to stay inside and study. By the time the students came filing in after their break, Gilbert was feeling fairly confident that he'd overtake his pupils with ease. The young boy glanced up just as Anne Shirley swept in, her freckled nose held high as she took her seat beside Diana. Gilbert stared at her, trying hard to catch her eye, but she did not once deign him with a glance.

Gilbert returned to his schoolwork shortly thereafter, stealing only a few glances at Anne Shirley. Her chin was rested upon her knuckle, propping her head up as she gazed out through the window. He couldn't blame her; her desk held a wonderful view of Barry's Pond, which reflected merrily through the window.

Still, she _should_ look at him! Julia Bell was happily gazing at him from across the room, and she was older than Anne Shirley. Even Diana Barry took note of him from time to time, so why shouldn't her minx of a friend?

Yet her wonderful gray eyes had yet to move from the window. Without thinking it over, Gilbert quickly reached across the aisle and grabbed ahold of one of the red braids that fell across Anne's shoulder. In a tone that was meant to be teasing, not cruel, Gilbert whispered:

"Carrots! _Carrots!_

Anne's reaction to his words was instantaneous—he'd finally achieved her attention, but Gilbert didn't garner the reaction he'd anticipated. Immediately, Anne was out of her seat, her face growing in anger—causing her freckled cheeks to turn as red as her hair—taking her slate with her. Before Gilbert could comprehend what happening, Anne yelled:

"You mean, hateful boy! _How dare you!"_

Gilbert realized what had happened too late. Before he could move, argue, or even make a sound, Anne's slate came crashing down against his head. The wood holding the slate together cracked, half of it falling against his neck while the other half remained firmly in Anne Shirley's head.

Gilbert had predicted that Anne Shirley had a temper, but he had completely underestimated the power of that temper.

Gilbert's eyes were focused so steadily on Anne's face that he didn't notice the reactions of his friends and peers. He only noticed the tears that swelled underneath Anne's eyelashes, threatening to spill over as the master marched over.

"Anne Shirley, what does this mean?" the master demanded angrily. Anne, overcome with anger and hurt, could not answer. Guilt flooded Gilbert, beginning in his stomach and rising to his head. He hadn't mean to hurt Anne, or even get her into trouble with Mr. Phillips. He'd only wanted those expressive eyes to gaze at him like they gazed at Barry's Pond.

"It was my fault, Mr. Phillips," Gilbert offered eagerly. He knew it was futile—the master never listened to reason—but he had to try, anyhow. "I teased her."

"I am sorry to see a pupil of mine displaying such a temper and such a vindictive spirit," the master intoned, staring at Anne condescendingly. "Anne, go and stand on the platform in front of the blackboard for the rest of the afternoon."

The life drained out of Anne's face at his words, as though she hadn't realized that such a public display should warrant a punishment. Gilbert watched, his jaw hanging, as Anne marched up to the chalkboard, following the master.

_Ann Shirley has a very bad temper. Ann Shirley must learn to control her temper._

This punishment was worse than a public whipping, Gilbert realized, because this one invited humiliation. Anne had to stand in front of the class and rewrite the sentence until the chalkboard was full of her handwriting, and Mr. Phillips had spelled her name wrong.

Yet Gilbert could not help the tiny, good-natured chuckle that escaped his lips when Anne added an 'e' to the end of her name.

Gilbert was one of the first people to leave the schoolhouse when all the pupils were dismissed. He made up his mind to apologize to Anne—he wanted to earn her friendship, and he was afraid that he'd already ruined it. It wasn't long before he spotted Anne's red hair as she exited the schoolhouse.

"I'm awfully sorry I made fun of your hair, Anne," he told her earnestly. Anne did not look at him, nor did she give any recognition of his presence. So, more desperately: "_Honest_ I am. Don't be mad for keeps, now."

Yet Anne swept by disdainfully, acting as though she didn't hear him although Gilbert was sure her ears were in perfect working order. With a sigh, Gilbert turned and headed towards the pathway that lead to the main road, where Charlie and Moody were waiting.

Charlie immediately intercepted Gilbert before the older boy could even speak. "Why'd you have to go and tease Anne about her hair, Gil?" asked Charlie. "Everyone knows she's _awfully_ touchy about her hair."

"_I_ didn't," Gilbert told him. He wasn't in the mood for an argument; the day's events had already taken too much out of him. The rest of the walk home was spent in silence, as Charlie refused to talk to Gilbert until he apologized, and Gilbert felt he had given out all the appropriate apologies to Anne.

Dinner that night was conducted as a normal affair, but Mrs. Blythe broiled a chicken to celebrate Gilbert's first day back at school. Both Mr. and Mrs. Blythe took note of their son's depleted mood, but had yet to comment on it.

"Great chicken, Mother," Gilbert remarked at last. "Thank you for dinner."

His mother nodded in appreciation, swallowing her forkful of chicken. Afterwards, she laid the silverware gently on one of the napkins placed on the table. "I heard an interesting story to-day, Gilbert," she told him, trepidation clear in her voice. Gilbert had to resist the temptation to bolt from the table—such manners were not polite. "Mrs. Lynde told me that Anne Shirley—the orphan girl she told me about this weekend—went off on you in class."

Gilbert nodded. "It wasn't her fault," he added, quick to defend Anne. "I—I teased her."

Mrs. Blythe shook her head disapprovingly, but Mr. Blythe chuckled…well, blithely.

"May I be excused, please?" Gilbert asked anxiously. He wasn't wont to discuss his incident with Anne, especially considering he'd been mulling over it since his dismissal from school—and his dismissal from Anne's good graces. His mother nodded and allowed him to leave the table, closely followed by his father.

The two reached the parlor and Gilbert stretched out on one of the sofas, while Mr. Blythe settled into his usual wooden chair. A pile of newspapers lay next to the chair, readily available for whenever Mr. Blythe felt inclined to read one.

"I'm assuming you didn't mean to upset this girl?" asked Mr. Blythe at length. Gilbert felt a warmth spread from his neck to his cheeks at his father's inquiry.

"No-o-o." Gilbert shifted from his perch to stand up straight. Still, he averted his gaze from his father's face. "I only wanted her to look at me. Now she won't speak to me."

Mr. Blythe nodded as he took in the information. "And this is the orphan girl that Marilla Cuthbert adopted, yes?"

Gilbert nodded his head dismally, causing Mr. Blythe to chuckle once more.

The elderly Blythe grabbed a newspaper from the pile beside him and tore his gaze from his son. "Good luck with that one, son."

Gilbert hadn't a clue what his father meant but decided not to dwell on it, because to think of that girl only depressed him.

**xxx**

The rest of the week passed without incident. Gilbert tried eagerly to be accepted into Anne's good graces, but to no avail. She acted as though he didn't exist and, to add insult upon injury, she bested or tied him in nearly every subject. As each day passed he felt instinctively that Anne Shirley was different from any girl he had previously associated himself with, and the only girl who did _not_ want to associate with him.

The next week, nearly all the scholars of Avonlea were late to school for picking gum in Mr. Bell's spruce grove. Gilbert, not being one of them, did not worry about punishment, for he was nearly always punctual. But the master relayed a warning for the entire class: every pupil must be in their seat on time the next day, or there would be a severe punishment. Gilbert scoffed at the idea, for Mr. Phillips was not known for his harsh punishments.

The next day, however, every student who had been in Mr. Bell's spruce grove were back there again, including Anne but excepting Gilbert. He sat promptly in his seat, going over his geometrical sums because Anne had bested him the day before.

When the master arrived, the students began running into the classroom. First came the girls—Anne was curiously missing, Gilbert noticed—followed by the loud footsteps of the boys. Anne came in a minute later, her hair adorned gloriously with flowers. Gilbert thought the wreath very attractive, and hoped that to-morrow she would wear another one.

"Anne Shirley!"

Inwardly, Gilbert groaned. So engrossed had he been in his observations of Anne's hair ornaments that he'd forgotten she was the latest of all. She certainly had a knack for mishaps, that Shirley girl.

"Since you seem to be so fond of the boys' company we shall indulge your taste for it this afternoon," the master told her sarcastically. Anne gulped noticeably while Gilbert wondered what punishment Mr. Phillips would give out. "Take those flowers out of your hair and sit with Gilbert Blythe."

Disappointment filled Gilbert when he realized that Anne would have to release those becoming flowers from her hair, but another emotion entirely seized his body when he realized that she would be sitting next to him. Maybe, at last, he could earn her forgiveness—!

Gilbert, too overjoyed, did not notice the color drain on her face, nor did he notice the absolute dread in her eyes as she eyed the seat beside him. It wasn't until the master asked if Anne had heard him that Gilbert realized Anne's misery.

"Yes, sir," Anne said, answering the master's inquiry as to whether or not she had heard his order, "but I didn't suppose you really meant it."

"I assure you I _did_," the master reminded her, intoning that idiosyncratic sarcasm that Gilbert was learning to hate. "Obey me at once."

Anne's face grew whiter than the frock she was wearing as she gazed at the seat beside Gilbert. The color continued to drain from her face as she stepped across the classroom to take her seat beside Gilbert, and then promptly buried her head in her arms.

Everyone else whispered and nudged as Anne's head stay buried beneath her elbows. For a girl to sit next to a boy was punishment enough—for every girl except, it seemed, Ruby Gillis—but for _Anne Shirley_ to sit next to _Gilbert Blythe_ was complete torture.

Gilbert turned back to his fractions, his whole body tense, and pretended become absorbed in them. He'd already learned them—that was one of the benefits of spending mornings in the schoolhouse instead of Mr. Bell's grove—but he pretended as though he didn't and put his whole heart into them. Soon, Mr. Phillips relinquished the pair from his gaze and returned his attention to Prissy Andrews. Gilbert was thankful, because it seemed as soon as the master acquitted his attention, so did the rest of the class.

When he felt that no one was paying attention—for Gilbert wasn't sure if he could handle another public rejection, should Anne rejection again—Gilbert found the little candy heart he had been saving if an opportunity presented itself. Now that such an opportunity _had_ presented itself, Gilbert slowly nudged it underneath Anne's elbow. For a moment, Anne did not move, and Gilbert was left to stare at the pink heart's "You are sweet" logo until she did.

Finally, Gilbert noticed a muscle in Anne's arm twitch as she began to move. Without looking at him, she picked up the candy heart and read what was written upon it. For a moment, Gilbert's spirit soared…only to come crashing down as Anne threw the heart on the floor and crushed it underneath her boot. She then resumed her previous position without deigning to glance at Gilbert's crestfallen face.

When the pupils were released, Gilbert took his time gather his books together. Beside him, Anne hastily gathered all of her worldly possessions from her desk and marched haughtily out of the class, leaving Gilbert to stare after her.

The next morning, Gilbert met a sour-faced Charlie along the main road.

"Anne's not coming back to school," he muttered, not looking at Gilbert. Had he glanced at Gilbert, he would have noticed a very shocked expression adorning the young, handsome face. "She told Diana who told Gertie who told Carrie who told me that she wouldn't be returning."

"Oh." Gilbert didn't quite know what to say. A sickening feeling grew in his stomach—he knew it was because she would have to sit next to _him_, and Anne would rather be whipped painfully in front of the entire class than sit next to Gilbert.

School that day was a rather dull affair, for Anne's chatter was sorely missed along the Avonlea scholars. Diana Barry sat next to Gertie Pye, but the glimmer of friendship was gone out of her eyes. Gilbert sat and worked diligently, but not as hard as he usually would had Anne been there to compete with him. He should have been happy that he wasn't cooped up with someone who hated his very existence, yet he found that he missed Anne's presence sorely.

When the students were dismissed, Gilbert once again took his time gathering up his possessions. Charlie and Moody were waiting outside for him as he passed the porch wall, where his name was still written up with Julia Bell's. It was funny, he reflected, how only a fortnight ago he'd been acutely aware of Julia Bell, yet now he barely thought of her.

And poor Gilbert couldn't help but wish that instead of Julia's, his name had been written up beside Anne Shirley's, with a big 'Take Notice' above it.

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**Reviews are better than sitting next to cute boys in class (unless you're Anne Shirley)!  
**(Also, should I add on to this story and write more from Gil's point of view? I've been toying with the idea but I want to see if people would actually read it.)


	2. An Unfortunate Rescuer

**A/N: **Thanks to your enthusiasm, I've decided to continue this story!This felt like a never-ending chapter while I was writing it. It certainly is a whopper compared to my other fanfic chapters (nearly 5,000 words!) because I usually like to keep my fanfic chapters short. Anywho, this is really a Gilbert-centric chapter as compared to an Anne/Gilbert chapter. I really, really enjoyed getting into Gilbert's head during this chapter, and I hope you guys enjoy reading it. As always, please review! Oh, and it's also 3 AM, so please excuse any errors you see, because although I've edited the chapter, it's late and I've probably missed _a lot_.

Also, I want to give a quick shout out to the anonymous reviewer **LamesandJily**! If your name is a reference to the totally awesome Lily and James, then you are amazing. If not, then I still totally love your name.

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**Take Notice**

**II. **Gilbert Blythe, half-past fifteen, was—to put it in commonplace terms—bored. It was a relatively warm summer day, and the young lad was simply itching to go outside. Earlier in the day, he'd offered to help his father out in the fields, but his father had turned down the younger Blythe's offer, for George Fletcher had loaned out Pacifique Boute for the day.

Gilbert had then wandered down the main road to the Sloane homestead, where he found Charlie. The goggle-eyed boy rejected Gilbert's invitation with an apology, stating that he was "busy." Gilbert knew better, however; their friendship had become somewhat strained as of late, and Gilbert strongly suspected that it had something to do with a redhead known as Anne Shirley.

The increase in coolness on Charlie's part had begun over a year ago, when the mayflowers had begun blooming in the spring. Gilbert—who had always been more receptive of the feelings and likes or dislikes of others—noticed the glimmer in Anne's eyes as Mr. Phillips presented Prissy Andrews with a bouquet of mayflowers. The brown-haired boy had yet to find himself in Anne's good graces, which was why he found himself picking mayflowers in the field behind Mr. Silas Sloane's farm.

He presented his flowers to Anne the next morning, but was not received as favorably as the master had been received by Prissy Andrews. Anne rejected his offer of friendship with scorn, and for weeks afterwards the mayflowers lay wilting in Gilbert's room, another reminder that Anne Shirley hated his very existence.

Charlie had, of course, found out about the mayflowers—for a boy who wasn't the least bit perceptive, he knew most of what went on in Anne's life—and a frost had entered there relationship. A jolly chap like Gilbert tried to ignore it, to fix their friendship by ignoring it. Anne was, after all, only a _girl_, and Gilbert and Charlie had been cronies since age four.

But as the year wore on Charlie's behavior remained unchanged, and Gilbert was left to puzzle over it on his own. He came to the conclusion that if their roles had been reversed—if Charlie had presented Anne with flowers, knowing Gilbert's feelings for her—Gilbert, too, would be upset. Still, he wouldn't be so petty as to hold Charlie in contempt.

He ambled down to the MacPherson place, but Mrs. Spurgeon MacPherson sadly informed him that Moody was in Charlottetown for the day with his father. Gilbert nodded and left, but his mood was soured. Yet he decided to walk a bit down to the Wright farm. Fred Wright was Gilbert's age, but he was above Gilbert in school—the Wright boy's father hadn't the misfortune to receive an illness that needed to be treated in Alberta—and the two of them had only begun to speak this year. Still, Fred was an amiable lad who was easy to converse with and Gilbert found that he enjoyed the little time they had spent together.

"Sorry, Gil," Fred informed him once Gilbert had reached the Wright farm, "I've got chores to do all day. Maybe to-morrow we can ask Mr. Harmon Andrews if he'll let us borrow his dory—he's swell like that."

Gilbert nodded and said good-day, but Fred had instilled an idea that would not leave his head. Mr. Andrews had often told the Avonlea children that if they wanted to row out on Barry's Pond, they were always welcome to use his dory. Since the Blythes were not in possession of a dory, rowing out on the river hadn't even crossed Gilbert's mind. Now that Fred had planted the seed in his head, the idea simply would not leave his mind.

It was a short walk to the Andrews place from the Wright farm, one which Gilbert enjoyed immensely. Although it was warm outside, the road leading to their house was lined by a canopy of Elm trees that provided solace from the warm weather. Gilbert whistled contentedly as ambled down the gravel road, only stopping when he reached his destination.

Mrs. Harmon Andrews answered the door swiftly after Gilbert's knock echoed throughout the house. "Gilbert Blythe!" the older lady exclaimed upon seeing the young boy. "Are you here to see Jane?"

As her daughter grew older, Mrs. Harmon Andrews had developed quite an eye for the young boys in Avonlea. To her, each one was a potential suitor, someone who could one day become her son-in-law. Gilbert Blythe, although he was still young, was turning into quite the handsome lad, with his jolly hazel eyes and mop of dark hair. Although he was destined to become a farmer like his father—and Mrs. Harmon Andrews had always envisioned a more exciting life for Jane than she had—Gilbert would be a more than satisfactory match for her young daughter.

"Well, no," began Gilbert. He hadn't come to see Jane—all he really wanted was to borrow Mr. Andrews' dory—but now that he was there, he felt it was only polite to say hello to his school chum. "I wanted to ask a favor of Mr. Andrews, but it would be nice to say 'hello' to Jane, as well."

"I'm sorry, dear," Mrs. Andrews told him regretfully, although she had known all along that Jane wasn't home, "Jane is up at Orchard Slope with Ruby Gillis and Anne Shirley. Perhaps some other time you could stop by and say hello?"

"Oh—er, of course." Gilbert had been thrown off by the mention of Anne—for a moment he'd forgotten that she was quite chummy with Jane. "Is Mr. Andrews in?"

Mrs. Harmon Andrews responded in the affirmative before allowing Gilbert to step into the parlor, and then left to go fetch her husband. It wasn't long before Harmon Andrews walked in, tanned and sweating from outdoor work, and greeted Gilbert with a smile.

"Gil Blythe! My wife said you had a favor to ask of me?"

"Yes, sir," responded Gilbert, ever the gentleman—but if you asked a certain redhead, she would argue otherwise. "Fred Wright told me that you might let us borrow your dory to row out on Barry's Pond. Fred's not with me now, but I was hoping you might let me have it anyhow."

"I would be happy to," answered Mr. Andrews.

Together, the older—and much taller, although Gilbert's height was increasing steadily every day, much to the chagrin of his mother—man and the younger boy hauled the large dory from the Andrews' shed. After walking a short distance, they came to a landing on Barry's Pond and easily set the wooden pile on the ground. Mr. Andrews then proceeded to place the oars into the dory.

"I suppose you can do the rest on your own?" Jane's father clapped a warming hand on the young boy's shoulder.

"Yes, sir," answered Gilbert as a grateful smile spread across his lips. "Thank you."

With one last smile, Mr. Andrews departed, leaving Gilbert to fend for himself. The fifteen-year-old was not unused to rowing on the pond—he had, in fact, spent most of the summer of 1877 on Barry's Pond, until his father decided to sell their dory to earn some extra money. Because of this, Gilbert easily navigated Mr. Andrews' dory onto to the water, rowing expertly.

His back faced the sun, and even though Gilbert was dressed in considerably light summer clothing—including a white hat that his mother had insisted on buying him—he soon began to sweat. He soon decided that it would be best if he stopped rowing for a moment, and glanced behind him to see how far away from the land he _really_ was. But instead of the green grass of the Island catching his eye, a young girl with damp red hair, clinging desperately to the pillar of the bridge.

Gilbert noticed Anne before she caught sight of him; he could make out her wide, frightened eyes as she struggled to maintain her grasp on the large, wooden pillar. A vast majority of blood had drained from the anxious girl's face, leaving her pale as a ghost—causing her auburn hair to stand out against her pale face and white frock.

It wasn't long before Anne _did_ notice Gilbert, however, and her panicked eyes quickly became scornful.

"Anne Shirley!" Gilbert exclaimed in amazement. "How on earth did you get _there_?"

Anne's eyes hardened, but Gilbert did not notice. He was intent on getting the damsel freed from her perch and pulled close to the pillar to do so. He extended his hand, and Anne—though not gratefully—quickly accepted his proffered limb. The dory wobbled a bit as Anne's weight shifted onto it, but Gilbert's grip on Anne's cold hand was enough to maintain the pair's balance.

Anne, unsuccessfully trying to remain dignified, took her spot in the dory with her head held high. When Gilbert returned to his perch once more and took up his oars, he asked, "What has happened, Anne?"

Anne did not look up at him, but—as he had obviously just rescued her from a dire situation—answered him. "We were playing Elaine," she told him frigidly, "and I had to drift down to Camelot in the barge—I mean the flat. The flat began to leak and I climbed out on the pile. The girls went for help." A pause—and then, "Will you be kind enough to row me to the landing?"

Gilbert nodded and obliged his schoolmate, turning the dory around and heading back toward the landing whence he came. When they reached the shore, Anne did not wait for his assistance—which Gilbert would have easily given—and instead chose to spring from the skiff without a word.

"I'm very much obliged to you," she said finally, but the tone of her voice indicated the exact opposite. Gilbert opened his mouth to respond, but the little ninny had already begun to turn away. He would have none of it.

Gilbert had just saved her life after years of repeated snubs! Now was as good a time as any to mend their broken relationship, if only Anne would listen! And so, without truly thinking the matter over—and without taking Anne's impressive obstinacy into consideration—Gilbert laid a detaining hand on Anne's cold arm.

"Anne," he said hurriedly, "look here."

Anne's grey eyes widened at his touch, staring down at the large hand encompassing her arm with amazement. Slowly, her eyes began to travel from his hand, up his arm, before finally settling on Gilbert's face.

"Can't we be good friends?" Gilbert asked eagerly. "I'm awfully sorry I made fun of your hair that time. I didn't mean to vex you and I only meant it for a joke. Besides, it's so long ago. I think your hair is awfully pretty now…honest, I do. Let's be friends."

A long silence followed, during which Gilbert's eyes never left Anne's face. In her silence he counted the seven freckles that adorned her shapely nose, before allowing his eyes to take in Anne's expression. For a moment her face softened—the fifteen-year-old began to soar on the "wings of anticipation" as Anne would say—and underneath Gilbert's steady, keen gaze a blush formed beneath Anne's freckles.

But just as quickly as the kind expression had appeared, it vanished. Anne's face began to harden and her grey eyes quickly turned cold. In the years to come, Gilbert would question whether or not he had imagined the blush.

"No." Her voice was cold, unfeeling, and it caused Gilbert's whole body to turn numb. "I shall never be friends with you, Gilbert Blythe; and I don't want to be!"

Something had changed within Gilbert upon witnessing Anne's expression and hearing her cruel tone. For the first time, he felt a genuine, stinging pain from the finality of Anne's words. No longer could he hope for a comradeship to spring between them. Any imaginings of he and the redhead being friends—laughing as they reviewed schoolwork, or walking together underneath the birch trees—vanished, and would remain dormant for years to come.

"All right! I'll never ask you to be friends again, Anne Shirley." Gilbert quickly hopped back into the dory, which until then had been lying forgotten on the shore. He was acutely aware of the heat that flooded his cheeks, threatening to reveal his true feelings, but he could only hope that Anne would not notice. "And I don't care, either!"

Gilbert pulled away from the landing with swift, defiant strokes, putting all the anger that consumed his mind into the rowing. He could feel his muscles straining from the pressure of the water, but the adrenaline from his encounter with Anne was still pumping through his veins as her angry refusal echoed throughout his mind. He rowed for what seemed like hours, until his arms ached and he finally had to pull onto the shore. By the time he had reached the Andrews farm, he had made up his mind. The iron had entered Anne's soul when he had called her carrots, and the iron entered Gilbert's when she refused his friendship.

**xxx**

Summer passed and faded prettily into fall, causing Avonlea to become enveloped in the warm hues of autumn. It was a season which Gilbert adored under normal circumstances—but these were not normal circumstances, as the red and orange leaves bitterly reminded him of Anne Shirley.

School began again, bringing Gilbert's school chums with it. He enjoyed the company of Moody and Fred immensely, and even Charlie came around, noticing the indifference with which Gilbert regarded Anne.

One evening, mid-September, Gilbert sat in the parlor of the Blythe homestead, looking over his schoolwork. He'd been vying for top marks in school for years, but this year he was determined to beat Anne Shirley in nearly every subject. John Blythe sat in his usual wooden chair, smoking his pipe and reading the newspaper as his son studied diligently.

There was a gentle knock at the door, but neither Mr. Blythe nor his son moved, for they both knew that visitors most often came for Mrs. Blythe, and that she would answer the door before either man could move from their perches. A familiar voice flooded the parlor, and Gilbert's attention was immediately drawn away from his schoolwork. Footsteps resounded from the kitchen, growing louder as his mother and the visitor walked towards the parlor. Gilbert immediately sat up and brushed the wrinkles out of his old shirt.

"Gilbert," his mother called upon entering the room with their guest, "Miss Stacy wants to talk to you about school, if you don't mind."

"Of course not!" exclaimed the studious young man, a little too enthusiastically. He'd heard whispers of a Queen's study group being organized, but had never thought it possible that he should join.

Miss Stacy sat down on the sofa, followed by Mrs. Blythe. "I hope I'm not intruding," she began, smiling kindly at the Blythes. "I was just over at the Cuthbert's and thought I'd take the opportunity to stop by."

Gilbert was too busy trying to ignore the pang in his chest at the thought of Anne to respond to his teacher.

"I assure you you're not," replied Mrs. Blythe. "I'm sorry to say we've already eaten supper, though."

Miss Stacy waved off the matter without a thought. "I can't stay long. I simply wanted to discuss some school matters with Gilbert."

"What about?" asked the aforementioned pupil. His thoughts were filled with Queen's Academy, but ever since that dreadful day on the pond, he'd learn not to hope for things.

"I've decided to organize a special class for students who intend to take the entrance examinations for Queen's Academy, and I was wondering if you—" she inclined her head towards Mr. and Mrs. Blythe, "—would permit Gilbert to join this study group? Gilbert is excellent pupil—he's tied at the top of his class—and I feel he would excel at Queen's, given the opportunity, of course."

"How wonderful!" exclaimed Mrs. Blythe, whose eyes began to shine with proud tears as she glanced at her son. "What do you think, Gilbert?"

The young Blythe boy was hesitant to answer. He'd heard that studying at Queen's could be expensive, and although it was his dream, he wasn't willing to sacrifice his family's well-being to further his own career. "I—I think it's brilliant," he answered finally.

"The Queen's class will meet after school every day to study for an hour," elaborated Miss Stacy. "I'm delighted that you'll be joining us. Thank you for allowing me in on such short notice, Mrs. Blythe."

Miss Stacy rose to leave the room with Gilbert's mother, but Gilbert's inquiry stopped her momentarily. "Miss Stacy," he began, "who else is in the Queen's class?"

"So far I've spoken to Anne Shirley and Jane Andrews, who were both eager to participate. I've a few more pupils in mind, but I have yet to speak to their families."

"Thank you, Miss Stacy," Gilbert said in earnest. "I won't let you down."

Miss Stacy smiled. "I've no doubt you won't."

Miss Stacy said her goodbyes and was led out of the room by Mrs. Blythe, their skirts swishing after them. Gilbert was delighted at the prospect of joining the Queen's class along with his friends—with the exception of Anne Shirley, although he could not deny the thrill that went down his spine at the thought of attending the Academy with her—but was still unsure about the monetary aspect of it all.

"Father, wouldn't sending me to Queen's be a burden?"

Mr. Blythe, who had remained quiet on the issue during Miss Stacy's visit, presently took his pipe from his mouth and looked at his son perplexedly. "What do you mean, Gil?"

Gilbert bit his lip and pointed his hazel gaze towards the floor. "Well…some of my chums have siblings that have been put through Queen's, and they all say that it costs quite a lot of money."

"Don't you want to go?"

"Yes!" exclaimed Gilbert eagerly. "Of course I do. Only I don't think it would be worth it if my education were to put you and mother in a tight spot, money-wise."

"Gil, if going to Queen's is something you really want to do, we'll support you. You needn't worry about the money. Just study as hard as you can, and we'll worry about the rest."

Gilbert nodded his head, and following his father's advice turned back to his schoolwork.

"And Gil?" Gilbert's head swiveled back towards his father, who was staring back at him intently. "We're very proud of you. Don't forget that."

In the weeks that followed, the Queen's class was organized, consisting only of the most advanced pupils Avonlea had to offer. Gilbert sat in a row with Charlie and Moody, while Anne, Ruby, Jane, and Josie sat opposite to the boys. More than ever, Gilbert was determined to top the class, not only to best Anne, but to prove to his parents that their expense wasn't for naught. He studied in the morning, worked diligently during class, and then studied even more at home. Deep in his heart, he held a high ambition: to place first on the entrance exams. The whole Island would be competing against him, and although he wasn't acquainted with most of his foes, he felt that his only real rival was Anne.

There were fleeting moments in class when he would feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, indicated that someone's eyes were upon him. Gilbert would look behind him, only to find Anne Shirley's grey eyes fixed upon him. In these rare moments when she was caught staring, a blush would rise on her cheeks and she would turn back to her schoolwork with haste, embarrassed underneath Gilbert's indifferent stare.

As much as he tried to ignore the redhead's presence, Gilbert simply could not ignore the jolt that he felt in his very core every time one of these occurrences happened, and in order to quell these obviously unrequited feelings, he would turn his attention to another girl, although he held no real desire to joke or laugh with any of them.

On one such instance, he gave Julia Bell a book about flora which he found to be particularly dull; Julia accepted the book with a keen enthusiasm and promptly asked Gilbert to walk home with her, which he pretended to do pleasantly. He often asked to walk Ruby Gillis home after prayer-meetings. She was a pretty, flighty girl who dreamed of dozens of beaux, but Gilbert found that he was entertained by her air-brained fancies, whereas he was rather bored by Josie or Julia's dull chatter. Still, his heart would thump more loudly and beat more quickly whenever Anne Shirley brushed past him without a glance or whenever he could hear her laughter from behind him.

Before Gilbert realized it, the orange and red leaves had fallen daintily to the ground, and snow blanketed the chilly horizon. The days passed pleasantly, Christmas came and went, and soon the leaves were returning, flowers were blooming, and birds were chirping. It wasn't long before the scholars were released from their prison and the summer heat began beating down on the red roads of Prince Edward Island.

Gilbert made a point to stay away from Barry's Pond or any of the haunts that Anne usually frequented; he wasn't apt to run into her. Although many say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, Gilbert believed the opposite was true for him. If he did not see Anne, it was simply easier for his feelings to remain dormant.

Most of his days were spent outside with Moody, Charlie, or Fred; all in all, it was a pleasant summer, thankfully passing without a major catastrophe or event. Only a few times did Gilbert run into his redheaded nemesis: once at Ruby Gillis's birthday party, once at the Sunday school picnic—Gilbert was proud to say that he and Moody beat Anne in the three-legged race this year—and once at the missionary concert, where neither he nor Anne were performing.

When school resumed—Miss Stacy's last year at the helm of Avonlea school—Gilbert once again flung himself into his studies and into the all-consuming competition to have top marks between he and Anne. It truly was a test of wit and will, as neither was willing to back down from the rivalry, nor were they willing to acknowledge each other's presence. And in the end, both Gilbert and Anne came out on top for Miss Stacy's mock entrance exams. For a moment, Gilbert thought to congratulate Anne, but quickly stopped himself before he could even turn and look at her.

As the school year wore on, Gilbert began to grow tired of his endless routine of studying. He longed to go outside and ramble through the woods, but would never forgive himself for it if he were to fail the entrance exams. Much like his indecision as to congratulate Anne or not, Gilbert found he often had internal struggle to either study meticulously or lose himself in his fancies. Always, the more rational side won, and Gilbert's nose was perpetually stuck in his schoolbooks.

Like the previous year, autumn turned to winter, winter blossomed into spring, and before Gilbert realized, June—and the entrance exams—were upon him. Now seventeen, Gilbert had grown into an intelligent and handsome young man, ready to grab hold of his future. He felt that he could bear placing low on the entrance exams, if only Anne were to place above him. Yet he didn't dare show his admiration for his peer, as she still remained uncaring towards him, rarely noticing and never acknowledging Gilbert.

The exams were to be held at the Academy in Charlottetown, and Gilbert was to board with Moody and Charlie for the five days during which the examinations were to be held. Basic maths exams were held on Monday, and both of Gilbert's roommates were going mad over them. Moody muttered the multiplication table in his sleep, and Charlie began sweating profusely whenever anyone mentioned a number. Gilbert, for his part, tried to remain calm and composed, but was equally as anxious on the inside.

History exams were held the next day, and Moody nearly died of hysterics. He felt as though he met his Waterloo in history, but memorization had always been a strong point for Gilbert and he breezed through his exams without batting an eyelash.

Wednesday brought the English exams with it, and although Gilbert had always had a particular trouble with grammar and sentence structure, he felt confident that the studying he had subjected himself to all year ultimately paid off.

Algebra and geometry were held on Thursday and Friday, respectively, and before the scholars knew it they were heading back to Avonlea. All their hard work had finally reached a crescendo, and now all they could do was wait. A few times in Charlottetown, Gilbert passed Anne, but if any spark of recognition entered her eyes he did not notice, for he was far too busy trying not to notice to see. To an unknowing passerby, Gilbert and Anne seemed to be nothing more than scholars from different sides of the Island.

The week passed and Gilbert began to worry incessantly. What if he were to fail? What if Charlie were to pass instead of him? What if his parent's pride was for naught? He had felt confident during the exams, but as the week wore on he began to remember tiny mistakes he made during certain equations, sums he messed up, or sentence fragments he forgot to correct.

"Don't be silly, Gilbert," Josie told him, trying to be reassuring. It was not, however, in a Pye's nature to be either kind or reassuring, and her guarantees only caused Gilbert to worry more. "There's no doubt in the world that you'll beat the whole Island. Ned Wright has bet money that you'll beat Anne Shirley for first."

When a fortnight passed, Gilbert and Charlie began haunting the post office, resolutely waiting for the pass list to be delivered. Once or twice he ran into Anne, her face as white as ghost, and wondered why she should be so scared. She was most likely to place at the top, he thought.

Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, the pass list was released. Charlie grabbed it first, scanning the long list quickly. "Gilbert—Gil!" he exclaimed jubilantly. "We've passed! Oh, Mother's going to be so happy. No Sloane has ever gone to Queen's, you know."

Gilbert nodded his head and congratulated his friend, but was more anxious to see _where_ on the list he placed. Upon obtaining the list, however, his eyes widened considerably. There, on the paper, was his name, emblazoned next to the number one. And, right above his name, was Anne Shirley's. They had both tied for first place!

As he left the post office—his steps containing a bounce that had not been there previously—Gilbert ran into Diana Barry. "'Lo, Diana!" he called out, causing the raven haired girl to turn in surprise. "Have you seen the pass list?"

"Not yet," answered Diana. "I've actually come here to fetch it for Anne. She's so frightened that she vowed to stay away from the post office. I'm to tell her if she failed or not."

"Anne had no reason to be worried," responded Gilbert, his voice growing soft. It was the first time he had spoken Anne's name aloud since that fateful day by Barry's Pond. "She placed first—first among the whole Island. Here's the list."

Diana grabbed the list from Gilbert's hand and glanced at the top, where both his and Anne's names resided. "Goodness, that's amazing! And you too, Gil. Congratulations! May I have this?"

Gilbert nodded. "Of course."

Diana breathed out a 'thank you' and ran off without another word, presumably to tell Anne of her achievement. Gilbert shook his head and smiled to himself and he watched her black hair disappear across the horizon, and then turned towards the main road to tell his parents of his own achievement. He finally had something to be proud of—and, for the first time, had something he shared with Anne.

* * *

**Reviews are better than Lily and James!  
**(does anyone else notice the similarities between Lily and James and Anne and Gilbert? Just me? Okay.)


	3. Hope Renewed

**A/N:** I really have no excuses for the late update. I started this chapter a while ago, but life got in the way. I stayed in New York City for quite some time, and then school began again and...well, I wanted to post this chapter before the next semester started. Thank you all for the kind reviews - they meant so much to me, and kept this story on mind :)

* * *

**Take Notice**

**iii**. Gilbert Blythe, nearly eighteen, listened intently to his companion's drabble. The satchel he carried weighed heavily alongside his own, but he did not mind; that was the price to pay for such fine company.

And Ruby Gillis _was_ fine company, he decided. He knew many of the girls did not enjoy her senseless chatter, or were jealous of her fair looks, but Gilbert _did_ enjoy her inane ramblings, and as for her looks—well, he rarely ever noticed them. During those unusual occasions that he did, Gilbert reflected that perhaps he would like them much better if her golden hair was instead red…if her bright blue eyes were instead green, bordering on grey…and if her upturned nose was instead dusted with seven freckles.

Ruby talked to fill the silences between them, when she felt she could no longer stand his 'book-talk'. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy books, reading or talking about them, but one became rather tired of discussing them when there were so many other, more exciting happenings to talk about.

"Frank is thinking about soliciting," Ruby insinuated slyly, hoping to get a reaction from her thoughtful companion. There mayn't have been any silly sentiment in Anne's ideas concerning Gilbert, but there certainly was in Ruby's. Gilbert was just the sort of fellow she would like to be tied down to: ambitious, kind, and good-looking. There were moments when Ruby felt that his attention was tied to her, but most of the time she felt that he was in some far off land, thinking of something entirely different.

"A noble profession," was Gilbert's sole comment. Of course, Ruby hadn't expected anything else—it was not in Gilbert's nature to be snide. "I assume he'll be off to Redmond when he is finished with Queen's?"

Ruby nodded, her frustration growing. "Yes. His mother wants him to receive his B.A. as soon as possible, which is why he's completing his studies here in one year, just like you."

"What a lucky fellow. I envy him."

Envy! Ruby only wished that he envied her interest in Frank, not his education. "You won't be off to Redmond in the fall?"

Gilbert shook his head sadly. "No. My parents haven't the money, unfortunately. I'll be teaching until I can scrape up the funds."

"What if you won the scholarship? You're smarter than nearly all of the students here."

"No, the medal is my goal. Besides—doesn't Anne Shirley want the scholarship?"

He mentioned her name so casually, but in a tone that implied Anne Shirley wasn't anything close to casual, and Ruby noticed it.

"Yes," answered Ruby, "and so does Emily Clay. I haven't the faintest idea of who will come out on top."

"Anne will win, I'm sure. Emily is smart but she hasn't got half the drive that Anne does."

Ruby quieted, not entirely happy with the outcome of her casual comments. Gilbert fell back into his silence, ruminating over his monetary troubles as well as his troubles with the redhead in question.

They shared every class together, as both he and Anne had elected to finish their two-year courses in one year, to procure a teaching licence more quickly than their peers. It was not an easy task, and his time was mostly occupied with his studies, yet Gilbert found that his mind would often drift to Anne.

It had been three years since the incident on Barry's Pond, but Gilbert thought more about it now than ever. He wished Anne had accepted his proposal for friendship, if only because he thought she would make an excellent study partner. No, he was no longer bitter towards Anne…there were even times, fleeting as they were, when he felt that she was no longer bitter towards him…but she refused to acknowledge him, and in response, he refused to acknowledge her. Were it not for their mutual friends, most of Queen's Academy would not even suspect that Anne and Gilbert had grown up in the same town.

**xxx**

What should've been a lonely winter for Gilbert turned out to be a very pleasant one. He had made new friends in his classes, and on occasion he did still spend time with Moody or Charlie. One friend in particular made quite an impression.

Warren Williams was the same age as Gilbert—quite refreshing, as he'd been around students two years year younger than himself for nearly four years—and the two of them became fast friends in their first week of classes. Physically, he was the exact opposite of Gilbert—tawny blond hair, blue eyes, and a brawny build set him apart from his brunette companion.

Warren seemed to know everyone. The two of them could not walk through the quad without stopping to talk to one of Warren's friends. Because of this, Gilbert met a multitude of people in a short time. Together, he and William made quite the pair, causing many girls at Queen's to whisper whenever they walked past. Gilbert was flattered, but tried to ignore the attention; Warren simply thrived upon it. He flirted with the girls and charmed them all equally, but he was only ever interested in one.

"Say, Gilbert, do you know that girl over there?" Warren had asked one day, nodding across the quad. Gilbert looked accordingly, and his eyes fell upon Anne. She was standing beside one of her new Queen's chums.

At first, Gilbert said nothing. There was a queer lump in his throat that prevented him from talking. But after a moment's silence—with Warren's inquisitive eyes flicking from Gilbert to Anne—he spoke up. "Yes," he said at last. "We went to school in Avonlea together."

Upon hearing Gilbert's answer, Warren's eyes lit up and his mouth twisted into an amused smile. "I wasn't talking about Anne Shirley!" laughed Warren. "I meant her friend—Stella. She's a beauty."

Gilbert visibly relaxed at Warren's admission, which his comrade noticed. Gilbert's affections towards Anne were not obvious, but Warren had seen past Gilbert's indifferent façade and knew the truth, although he would never tell Gilbert.

"I don't know Stella that well," admitted Gilbert. "She seems to be quite chummy with Anne, though."

Warren nodded. "I've tried talking to her a few times. She won't give me the time of day."

This caused Gilbert to chuckle. His eyes slid to Stella's redheaded companion, and remained there as he responded to his friend. "I know what you mean."

Weekend trips home brought Gilbert a small amount of joy, but most of his time was occupied by studying. His ultimate goal was to win the medal, for if he could not attend college, he wanted to bring his parents some small amount of pride for their son. Anne, too, had thrown herself into her academics—she was often spotted in the library, pouring over a pile of books, her red hair spilling down her shoulders.

Eventually the snow melted and emerald bursts of leaves returned to the trees. Birds chirped, signaling the arrival of spring and examinations. The students at Queen's were both dreading and looking forward to it. While examinations were terrifyingly dull and stressful, they meant that the end of the school year was near.

To Gilbert, examinations seemed to fly by. He felt as though he did moderately well in each subject, and even allowed himself to believe he was well on his way to becoming the Medalist. He did not, however, deceive himself into believing that he would score better than Anne, although it would be his greatest honor.

Scores would be posted on the main bulletin board on campus a few days later. On the morning of, Gilbert strode confidently towards the board in question, although he was quite nervous on the inside. Suppose…suppose he didn't win the medal? How would he show his parents that he was grateful for everything they did for him? And what if he could not make them proud?

Already, there was a cluster of boys gathered around the bulletin board, discussing and pointing at the scores. Warren was among them. At first, he merely glanced at Gilbert and then turned back towards the scores. Then, as quickly as he had turned away, he looked back at Gilbert, a broad grin on his face.

"Look, it's Gilbert!" exclaimed Warren joyfully. Every other boy turned in response to Warren's outburst, dashing forward to greet Gilbert. "Hurrah for Blythe, Medalist!"

Before Gilbert could utter a single word, he was swept up onto the shoulders of his proud comrades. They all repeated the first boy's sentiments—"Hurrah for Blythe, Medalist!"—as they carried him through the quad.

Gilbert, who held a high vantage point atop his peer's shoulders, spotted a familiar redhead crossing the pathway through the quad. Her destination was clear—the bulletin board—and Gilbert suddenly found himself wondering whether she had won the Avery Scholarship or not. Surely, his victory would not be as sweet without Anne being hailed beside him.

His eye caught hers for a moment, and he read her disappointed expression clearly. She, of course, would not want to share her honor with him, and the thought pained Gilbert. Still, he hoped she would win the scholarship. If he could not go to college, Anne should.

"Three cheers for Miss Shirley, winner of the Avery!"

So Anne had won!

A broad smile spread across Gilbert's face, and he made no effort to hide it. Pride bubbled up in his body as Anne's exultant face retreated towards the girl's dressing room with Jane.

Commencement was to be held in the next week. Gilbert, as a Medalist, was assigned to give a speech before being presented with his medal. Anne, as the winner of the Avery, would give one too. Gilbert wrote his out in the week preceding the commencement.

Commencement dawned bright and fresh one Friday morning. The dawn brought Mr. and Mrs. Blythe with it, much to Gilbert's delight. They eagerly kissed and hugged their overachieving son before departing to take their seats in the great assembly hall.

First, the dean gave his address, immediately followed by a selection of the faculty. Following the important addressed were the speeches, including Anne's and Gilbert's. Gilbert strode confidently up to the platform, his head held high, and presented his speech. He talked of his short experience at Queen's, of the teaching staff, and of the friends he made. Near the end of his address, he glanced out through crowd and caught his father's hazel eye.

"This has been an amazing opportunity," Gilbert told the crowd, "and one that would not have been available to me without the unfailing support of my parents."

Gilbert thanked both his parents and the crowd surrounding them before surrendering the stage to Anne. She looked lovely in her pale green dress, if slightly nervous. Gilbert silently wondered why she always looked nervous under public scrutiny—she hardly ever failed.

Anne gave a beautifully worded speech that mesmerized Gilbert. No longer was he thinking of her attire or of her hair. She had a way with words that enchanted the audience, capturing them until she murmured a faint "thank you" and exited the stage. Gilbert, along with the rest of the audience, clapped wholeheartedly for the redhead as she took her place among the scholars.

Following the speeches, the scholars stood up and joined together to sing the school song. And finally, the public award of diplomas, prizes, and medals were handed out. When Gilbert's name was called, he rose to accept his medal, only to find that his legs seemed to be made of jelly. In the many years to follow commencement, he could never be sure how he made it to the podium to accept the medal from the dean. But he did, and with a beaming face he turned towards his proud parents, who both had tears in their eyes.

**xxx**

Gilbert's summer in Avonlea was slow and lazy, just as he wished it to be. The birds chirped outside the Blythe farm and the sun shined brightly in the sky; to Gilbert, life seemed nearly perfect.

He was to have the Avonlea school in the fall, where he would teach until he could earn enough money to enroll at Redmond—for he was going to college, even if it took years. He described his plans in letters to Warren, who would be off to college in September, much to Gilbert's quiet jealousy.

Still, if it was his destiny to stay at home for a few more years he would do it gladly in the company of his pupils at the Avonlea school—he wouldn't want to teach anywhere else, even if he would be tutoring a few of his former schoolmates.

The weeks passed pleasantly for a while—Gilbert mostly caught up with his friends who hadn't attended Queen's—until one day Gilbert's mother arrived home with some surprising news that she had heard in town. She told Mr. Blythe of it, but as Gilbert was in the room when she spoke he heard it as well.

"Matthew Cuthbert passed away yesterday," she said quietly. Gilbert paused, quite obviously surprised, but said nothing. His mind was too jumbled to speak; he thought of Anne, and what this news must mean for her. Someone so blissfully happy and full of life did not deserve to be disgraced so harshly by death.

For a moment, John Blythe reacted in the same manner as his son, but soon collected himself and reflected that it was a shame that death would claim such a kind, peaceful soul. He doubted that Matthew Cuthbert had ever done harm to any living being, and Mrs. Blythe repeated his sentiments while Gilbert remained in the corner of the kitchen, quiet and motionless.

Marilla and Anne held a ceremony for Matthew, attended by the whole of Avonlea. Matthew had rarely left Green Gables in his life, but he was appreciated and loved in his death. The Blythes attended the ceremony but stood alone in the back of the crowd, as the family had never been close with the Cuthberts, and their presence went wholly unnoticed by Anne and Marilla in their grief.

Gilbert didn't see Anne for another week, until he attended church with his family. He was surprised to see her so soon after losing the man she considered a father, but she look strong and resolute—if tired—and was supported by both Marilla and Diana. He caught Marilla's gaze once and nodded at her, which she slowly returned before turning her attention to the front of the church. Gilbert felt something calculating in her gaze, as though she were studying him, but decided to think nothing more of it.

To Gilbert's surprise, the weeks passed just as easily as before, but he found himself thinking of Anne more often. He wondered how she was getting along, and hoped that her spirits would lift before she set off for Redmond in the fall.

It was by complete accident that he heard the news on one warm July morning. He had been in town, checking the mail at the post office for his parents, when he ran into Ruby Gillis. Although they had been close at Queen's, the two had only seen each other a handful of times and had the opportunity to talk to one another even less.

At first they talked of subjects that held no consequence, until Ruby made an off-hand comment about one of her beaus attending Redmond in the fall. She did it merely to get a reaction out of Gilbert, and she was rewarded appropriately. At first, Gilbert predictably spoke of his own desire to go to school, and then mentioned Anne's name in passing.

"Anne?" Ruby responded, surprised. "Why, Gilbert, Anne's not attending Redmond in the fall!"

"Why?" Gilbert was taken aback by this new turn of events—how could Anne, so dedicated to her education, give up her own opportunity to go to college?

Ruby shrugged. "I don't know. Everyone in town thinks she's being completely foolish. I certainly wouldn't give up a scholarship to stay home and teach."

Gilbert was ready to tell Ruby that most of the idle gossips in Avonlea had at first thought it a horrible idea for Anne to attend a coeducational university, but he quickly decided against it when he heard that she would be teaching. "Are you certain?" he asked his blonde-haired companion. "Where is she going to teach?"

"She told me herself that she's to take the Carmody school. I suppose she'll board there and come home on the weekends, if she up to it." Ruby paused for a moment, then looked up at Gilbert and continued. "I suppose she would have preferred the Avonlea school if it had been available, but everyone knows that it's already been promised to you."

Gilbert nodded and Ruby changed the subject, but he was no longer paying attention. He quickly bid her goodbye and made his way home. So Anne was staying in Avonlea! He knew that she must have a good reason, as she would not simply throw away such an opportunity, and he wondered how he could make it easier for her. He knew any display of friendship would be unwelcome, but he yearned to help out his old schoolmate.

It didn't take him long; Ruby had mentioned that she would have preferred the Avonlea school if Gilbert had not been promised it first. The decision was simple: he would give the school to her. His partnership had yet to be finalized with the board of trustees—although they had told him he could teach, he hadn't signed any papers. Gilbert remembered that White Sands was still in need of a master, and so he jotted down a quick note to their board of trustees requesting that he be given the school.

And then he had to wait for a response.

He only spoke of his plans to his father, as his mother didn't understand why he would give up such a close teaching position for one that would require board. But his father understood the moment Gilbert mentioned Anne, and Gilbert felt content in the knowledge that his father approved—or at the least, he understood.

He received a response from White Sands a week later, stating that they would be delighted to give him the school and requested that he travel the short distance to sign the required papers. But first he had to settle matters with the Avonlea board of trustees.

To his luck, the trustees were holding a meeting that night at the schoolhouse, and Gilbert showed up to express his regrets that he could no longer teach there. Although he did not give them a reason, they were gracious about the inconvenience, and—in a seeming attempt to help ease said inconvenience—Gilbert casually mentioned that Anne Shirley would be a perfect schoolmarm before he parted.

A few days passed, and Gilbert was left feeling pretty good about himself. He wondered what Anne thought about his decision—he wondered what Anne thought about _him_. He hadn't seen her since Sunday—before he had switched schools—and expected a full rebuke the next time he encountered her.

One evening, Mrs. Blythe requested that Gilbert head to the general store in town for a few supplies, and so he dutifully put on his cap and made his way out of their home, whistling as he exited. The sky was beginning to fade from blue to purple, casting a lovely silhouette on the gathering of trees near the far edge of town. He continued to whistle as he turned to close the gate behind him, but the pleasant sound ended as soon as he caught a glimpse of red hair in his vision.

Gilbert wasn't quite sure what to do—Anne hadn't scolded him as predicted, but she hadn't offered her friendship yet, either, so he merely lifted his cap in recognition and turned to continue on his way.

To his surprise—she never seemed to stop amazing him, Gilbert found—Anne stuck out her hand, her cheeks blazing, and stopped him.

"Gilbert…I want to thank you for giving up the school for me. It was very good of you—and I want you to know that I…appreciate it."

The past five years seemed to disappear around him. Gilbert accepted her hand eagerly, clasping it tightly, yet gently. "It wasn't particularly good of me at all, Anne," he told her, speaking earnestly. His hazel eyes shined with delight underneath the canopy of purple sky as he pondered how to phrase his next question. "Are we going to be friends after this? Have you really forgiven me my old fault?"

Anne laughed in response, and the sound thrilled Gilbert.

"I forgave you that day by the pond landing, although I didn't know it. What a stubborn little goose I was. I've been—I may as well make a complete confession—I've been sorry ever since."

"We are going to be the best of friends," replied Gilbert. He was certain of it. "We were born to be good friends, Anne. You've thwarted destiny enough. I know we can help each other in many ways. You are going to keep up your studies, aren't you?" He paused, and Anne nodded in response. "So am I. Come, I'm going to walk home with you."

He had intended to go to town, but all his previous errands had been forgotten in his quest for Anne's friendship. They talked and laughed over the past together as he walked her to Green Gables, making plans for the future and reflecting over the friendship they could have possessed if either of them hadn't been so stubborn.

When they reached the gate, Gilbert released her hand with an affectionate squeeze. In all his excitement, he'd completely forgotton that he'd grasped her hand the entire time, but Anne had mentioned nothing of it. When he finally released it, he felt a sudden coldness engulf his hand.

He regretted to say goodbye, but Anne promised to come find him in a few days' time and finished the conversation they had begun. They had, after all, five years of lost friendship to make up for. So with, with a full heart, he parted with her and made his way home.

"Gilbert," his mother called upon hearing the door shut behind her son, "did you get the supplies I asked for?"

As she rounded the corner, Mrs. Blythe found a very supply-less young man. "Gilbert! What have you been this entire time?"

Gilbert, although embarrassed at his memory lapse, shrugged. "I was making a new friend."

Mrs. Blythe shook her head, but a smile played at the corner of her lips. "Alright, it's too late to go to the store now. You'll have to go tomorrow. Honestly, I never knew you to be so forgetful."

Gilbert apologized and made his way to his room. Tomorrow he would bring his mother the supplies she needed, and the day after that he would bask in the glory of a hard-earned friendship.

* * *

**Reviews are (almost) as good as winning academic scholarships and medals!**  
(also, I had to give Gilbert a friend. I would've gotten pretty annoyed at Queen's and Redmond with only Charlie and Moody to keep me company!)


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